


A Cage of His Choosing

by Hanatamago



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom Balthus, Dom/sub, Feelings (TM), Forced Orgasm, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Rough Sex, The implicit angst of Yuri's past, These tags are a mess but it's a lot of PWP, Yuri likes to be manhandled, kind of PWP, sub yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:09:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24134110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanatamago/pseuds/Hanatamago
Summary: “Hear you’re pretty good with a sword.” Yuri winks. “Need it a little rougher tonight. Think you can handle that?”“In that kind of mood, then.” Balthus lets out a low whistle. He grabs Yuri by the shoulder, shoving him into the wall just rough enough to get his knees weak. “I’ll handle you any day of the week, babe.”Some days, he’s on top of the world. He’s gotta play boss, keep all his thieves in check. Some days he’s got to be the cunning, infallible leader of Abyss. Some days, Yuri wants nothing more than to submit. Balthus can do all the heavy lifting, at least for a night.
Relationships: Balthazar von Adalbrecht | Balthus von Albrecht/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc
Comments: 22
Kudos: 134





	A Cage of His Choosing

**Author's Note:**

> So, absolutely as expected, I've once again channeled the stress of life into Balthuri. Specifically horny Balthuri wrapped in a package of complex emotions. Enjoy! I don't really write a lot of PWP, so this was a bit of a challenge for myself to get more comfortable with writing smut and all that.

One, two - sock ‘em in the jaw. Three steps back, disengage. Balthus summons a spark of fire magic in his fists, focuses until it’s crackling nice and powerful, then boom! Inferno crashes against the wardstone. Heh, any poor sap caught in that woulda’ been burnt to bits.

Balthus steps back to the center of his makeshift training grounds, claps the chalk dust off his hands. A tight, familiar ache settles deep in his muscles. That’ll do it for today. He lugs a few training dummies back to the edge of the abandoned arena. Hey, gotta clean up after yourself, yeah? No use leaving all his stuff about. If people come in here wantin’ to train, they probably wouldn’t be able to put away most of the weights he uses anyway.

Not like he can really blame ‘em though. He’s stronger than he looks, and that’s pretty strong. Hasn’t yet met a man in the ring who can match him in raw strength, and with the crest pumping fire through his veins, he’s got a leg up on most monsters too.

In honesty, there’s not much point keeping his strength up so much now that the war’s over. Abyss is in a relative state of peace, thanks to Yuri’s command. Sure, there’s the occasional scuffle now and then, but Balthus could beat anyone in a bar fight even if he was half-asleep, or had an arm tied behind his back, or probably both!

Usually, he doesn’t have to, though. Most anyone who might have bad intentions towards Yuri usually just takes a long look at Balthus and balks. Hey, it’s probably better that way, boring as it is. He’s got time to throw down, but Yuri doesn’t care for the hassle. It’s been a long time since Balthus has seen him in action, but he knows Yuri hasn’t been slacking either. He never got a taste for complacency, what with his life and all.

That’s something they’ve got in common.

Balthus makes his way to Yuri’s office just in time to catch him in a rare, secret eye roll as some merchant dressed in silks rambles on about some finery Balthus doesn’t quite understand. Balthus shoots him a wink and settles against the stone wall outside, watching from the door. He catches a few words - Almyran wines and some sort of fancy enchanted scale for wyvern armor with a name he can’t pronounce. Yuri unfurls a map of Fódlan and dabs a few spots with red ink.

“It’s settled then.” Yuri holds back a sigh, but Balthus knows he’s gotta be at the end of his rope by the way his grip clenches on his armrest. “Our scouts will guard your journey in exchange for a meager _fifth_ of your dealings in the southern territories and a portion of your trade stock for Abyss. Yes?”

“Right you are, then. It’s a deal.” The merchant smiles and offers his hand. Yuri relaxes an ounce and shakes on it. The air’s a little lighter now that they’ve come to an agreement.

“Good. My men should be able to depart at first light - if that’s agreeable to you?”

“Indeed it is! Thank you for your cooperation, my lord, I assure you, you will not regret it.” He gathers his things, tucking a few scrolls into a leather case. His silks rustle as he moves to leave, and with a final bow, the room is still again.

Yuri lets out a long, loud sigh, sinking into his armchair. 

“So, how’d it go, ‘my lord’?” Balthus shuts the door behind him. Yuri cracks a smile and tosses a crumpled ball of parchment at him. It hits - body shot, though. 

“Come to test your luck? Call me that again and you’re in the hammock tonight.” It’s an empty threat, but Yuri’s gotta make it anyway. It’s his thing.

“Just checkin’ up on you, coulda been an assassin, y’know.” Balthus saunters over to his chair, leaning over the low wooden back so he can nuzzle into Yuri’s shoulder. Yuri’s hand rises up to cradle his cheek, holding him close.

Yuri whispers, voice soft and smooth as silk. “I can take care of myself.” He presses a kiss to Balthus’s temple before pulling away. “Besides, you’re a terrible bodyguard. If he was an assassin skilled enough to take me out, he would have killed me nearly half an hour ago.” 

“Sir Poindexter over there? Doubt it.” Yuri rolls up a few scrolls of his own, rising from his seat to tuck them back into a drawer in his desk, one they nabbed from the upper floors of the monastery after all hell broke loose. It’s nice wood, but the design’s a little too ornate for Yuri’s tastes. “It’s like you said, Almyran merchants have everything to gain from southern trade and nothing to lose, just need a little muscle. It’d be pretty dumb to double cross you, yeah?”

“Heh, look at you, learning strategy.” He smirks, “If I teach you too much, you might start winning a few bets.” Yuri steps closer, leaning into Balthus’s chest. “Can’t let that happen, can I?”

“Could if you wanted to.” His arms coil around Yuri’s waist, pulling them flush together. Yuri slings his arms around Balthus’s shoulders, lazily curling into his tunic. “Even the odds a little bit.” 

Took a while for Yuri to get close with him like this. He’d never been the type to get all touchy feely - at least, not in a genuine way, not unless he’s gettin’ something out of it. But somewhere along the line, Yuri figured out that it’d be easier than using his words, ‘cause that’s pretty hard for him too.

“Bad deal for me.” Yuri sighs. He’s quiet for a moment.

“You doin’ okay?” Balthus combs through his hair. Shiny lilac strands spill through his calloused hands, perfumed with some sort of rich, flowery oil that smells a little like a nice warm campfire past all the delicate feminine scents. How Constance managed to blend all that together, he doesn’t know, but the mystery suits Yuri damn well. 

“Stressed, but I suppose I’m still in one piece.” He makes a vague gesture to the war table. “Deal went as well as we could’ve hoped, but merchants are always a royal pain in the ass.”

“Anything I can do?” Even if Yuri doesn’t wanna say it, he’s been stressing about this deal for weeks. Even called Anna in for a spot of consulting - a merchant’s perspective. It’s been a whole month in the making - maybe even longer. Might be a done deal now, but he’s just gotta move on to the next pile of sealed scrolls from the old Kingdom territories tomorrow. Doesn’t give him the time to shrug all the weight off his shoulders, and if he doesn’t take a moment to rest, it’ll all build up into something a little less manageable.

“Hmm, there might be something.” Yuri glances up at him with a devious smirk. “For a man of your particular _talents_.”

“Talents, huh?” Balthus smirks. “And what might those be?”

“Hear you’re pretty good with a sword.” Yuri winks, palming him through his breeches. “Need it a little rougher tonight. Think you can handle that?”

“In that kind of mood, then.” Balthus lets out a low whistle. He grabs Yuri by the shoulder, shoving him into the wall just rough enough to get his knees weak. “I’ll handle you any day of the week, babe.” Balthus crowds him into the corner, forcing his chin up so he’s gotta raise up on his toes while Balthus shoves his tongue down his throat.

Yuri ain’t shy about what he wants, but damn if it doesn’t send a shiver down Balthus’s spine thinking about what that is sometimes. He’s always leading, even on nights like these. Nights that come around once every other blue moon, where Yuri asks Balthus to take the lead and own him. And he does, ‘cause Yuri wants it, and he damn well knows he wants it, so he’s still in control, even when he’s givin’ it all up.

Balthus pulls away, catching Yuri’s bottom lip between his teeth before he finally lets him down.

“Then I leave tonight in your capable hands, friend.” Yuri pants, breathless. 

Balthus grins. “Well, I’m game.”

* * *

It can only ever be him. 

It’s only Balthus that gets to see him like this. Gets to have him like this - weak and vulnerable by choice. It’s only Balthus, that damned brick wall of a man, who Yuri can throw himself against until he breaks. He wants to break. It’s only Balthus, with the sun shining in his touch, and with kind eyes that see all the things Yuri can’t possibly speak aloud.

It’s only Balthus that Yuri could ever submit to.

And so, tonight, with a glass of Almyran wine still sweet on his tongue, and with a single, whispered word lodged in the back of his mind, Yuri asks Balthus to break him. Heh, he’s good at it. There’s a reason Yuri’s already panting, helpless, and sore when Balthus pins him up against the thick oak door. It’s no typical spar, but Yuri still makes him put his muscles to good use. It’s no good if he doesn’t give it his all.

One rough, scarred palm grips his wrists behind his back, unyielding no matter how Yuri tries to writhe out of them. His other hand sprawls into Yuri’s hair, forcing his cheek into the wood. He’s so _damnably_ strong. Yuri can almost feel the heat of his Crest searing where Balthus’s skin meets his own.

“Ready to yield, Boss?” Yuri kicks backwards, aiming for his shin. It’s futile, but he’s still got a little heat left in him. Balthus expects it, easily blocking him. White-hot pain sparks from his scalp as Balthus jerks his head back and crushes his body into the wall, chest pressed up against his back. Yuri swears, half at the pain and half at… At how his body reacts to it.

It’s not just the pain, and not just Balthus cornering him, _dominating_ him like this. It’s both, and also things Yuri can’t really describe. His hand slips out of his hair with a terribly gentle, soothing caress. Yuri can’t tell if it’s a taunt or Balthus being… Balthus. Guy’s too sweet for his own good. 

Years ago, Yuri thought that’s all he was. Thought he had a good read on Balthus’s hand. Yuri would’ve laughed at the thought of where they are now - what Balthus means to him now. He would have laughed because he wanted it to be true, but with all his stupid hang-ups, he never thought Balthus could keep up with him. Heh, hindsight.

Romance aside, Balthus fucks better than any man he’s had before. Maybe it’s the way he looks, or the way his muscles feel under Yuri’s hands and his stubble prickling between Yuri’s thighs. Maybe it’s practice; Yuri wasn’t his first or his twentieth. And hey, it’s even footing there. More than that, it’s his attentiveness. It’s the way he reads Yuri so easily, how his body is honest with Balthus even when he himself can’t be.

“Had enough?” Balthus’s hand slides up his neck. His thumb dips below Yuri’s jaw, carefully, reverently stroking his skin. Thick fingers wrap around Yuri’s throat, loose but present. It’s a warning. A dare. 

It’s not a bluff. Yuri knows it’s not a bluff, but, heh, he likes to live dangerously when it comes to Balthus. Yuri kicks back again, aiming to drive his (admittedly blunt) heel into Balthus’s foot, but he’s still and sturdy as a damned stone, totally unfazed when Yuri lands a good blow on him. Yuri’s cut down a hundred men, but he can’t even fucking _move_ Balthus and it’s _electrifying_. Balthus’s fingers tighten around his neck, driving away his last breath.

“So feisty tonight, little birdie.” Yuri’s mouth falls open in a desperate gasp for air. It’s terrifying how vulnerable he is like this. Even without his crest, with all the time he spends testing his strength against boulders and unlucky challengers, of course Balthus can match him. Some days, Yuri thinks he might be the only one who can. 

He’d never hurt Yuri, not really. He’s been by his side almost seven years now, through that shit with Aelfric, through the war, through rebuilding Abyss. Balthus chose to stay at his side, no matter how ludicrous Yuri thought his proposition sounded at the time. Somehow, some wild, illogical part of him decided to trust Yuri, even given every bit of evidence as to why that would be a terrible idea. Stupid. Ridiculous. Heh, Yuri fell in love with that part of him. 

So no, Balthus would never abuse the trust Yuri puts in him for this, but he could if he wanted to. He’s strong enough, and it’s terrifying. It’s thrilling really. It’s half of why he’s so light-headed, even when Balthus lets up on his throat and Yuri sputters, coughing into the door. Sharp, cold air crackles down his throat as he sucks in a pained breath.

“Do you yield?” Balthus breathes, hot on the back of his neck. He’s right back to gentle, thumb brushing along Yuri’s jaw. 

Yuri swallows. “Yield.” 

“Right answer.” Balthus’s deep, rumbling laugh sounds through his chest. Whatever witty retort he tries to piece together is cut short by two thick fingers tapping on his bottom lip. Yuri slowly parts his lips, licking around Balthus’s fingers. He drops Yuri’s wrists, but Yuri doesn’t dare to move. He keeps his arms crossed behind his back, letting Balthus do as he pleases.

“Slut,” He traces Yuri’s cock, already half hard and straining in his breeches. “Gettin’ off from shit like this...” Yuri moans around his hand, squirming when Balthus gives him a rough stroke.

“Just need someone to put you in your place, dontcha?” Not like he can nod, not like he can say a damn thing, so he just moans again, lewdly grinding into Balthus’s hand. Goddess...

Balthus withdraws, wiping his fingers on Yuri’s skin. His lipstick must be smudged all down his chin, but there’s nothing to be done. Not like it would’ve lasted much longer anyway.

“Strip, then get on your knees.” Balthus smacks his ass. “Be quick about it, yeah?”

Yuri carefully unlaces the collar of his tunic, then slips out of it. He’s equally careful with the small silver clasps on his boots, and the thin laces of his breeches. He’s bare, half-hard. Far too exposed for his liking, but he’s stripped down for him dozens of times before, and for dozens of men besides. It’s Balthus himself that makes Yuri feel this way. He could be fully clothed, and Yuri would still feel those burnt umber eyes taking him to pieces. 

It’s difficult to understand why he likes this. Not the pain, not the sex, not chains or ropes or leather straps. That’s all well and good, whether it’s by his hand or Balthus’s. It’s the… vulnerability. It’s strange because Yuri has danced this dance before. He’s debased himself for wealthy patrons. He’s fucked, he’s served, he’s done far, far worse for the right coin purses and signet rings. Patrons who wished for a fantasy of power, of ownership, of Yuri’s complete submission. Those were the worst years of his life, so why now does he crave something far too similar? Balthus loves to please him, loves to let Yuri take full control of their endeavors whenever he likes. So why, rare as it is, does he beg to be broken down by Balthus. He asks for this, and for the longest time, he could never figure out why. 

Yuri kneels in the center of their rug without so much as an iron chain to cover him. There’s a draft in the room. That’s unavoidable in this part of the tunnels, it’s just much more noticeable when he’s bare like this. He shivers, but doesn’t move to cover himself. He hears Balthus uncork a bottle of ale from the cabinet. 

Yuri studies the faded patterns in the threadwork beneath his knees. The designs are Almyran, he thinks. It’s hard to say, he doesn’t know much about the art of foreign lands. Probably could have asked the merchant to give it a look if he was too curious. They scavenged this thing and a few others from a caravan that went off the rails a few moons back. The fringe on one of the corners is torn off, so without a weaver to restore that, they can’t sell it off to a curious noble. Could hire someone, but hey, it livens up the room. And besides, it makes for a good cushion over the uneven floor tiles.

“Hands behind your back.” Balthus crouches behind him as he complies. Yuri crosses his arms behind his back, holding his elbows. A thick leather strap winds around his wrists, locking them in place with a steel buckle. It’s snug, but not too tight. The leather doesn’t chafe on his skin as much (and more’s the pity, to be honest), but neither of them have patience for an array of knots.

In truth, none of the men or women who bought him had real power. Influence, money? Yes. But none of them had Balthus’s strength. They played their parts to a tee, and Yuri bought their souls with a good show and a slice of his pride. No one could be further from those snakes than Balthus. It’s his strength, his charisma, the power of a sun glowing within his eyes. Weak, sheltered aristocrats; poised, adventurous ladies; perhaps the odd greying lord, veteran of a war in years past. None of them felt so powerful as Balthus, terrifying and breathtaking in equal measure.

Perhaps that’s not fully right either. Though it hasn’t exactly come up, Yuri doubts he’d enjoy being taken by any old barbarian king. Their strength might be impressive, their muscles too, perhaps there might even be some allure to the authority granted by ruling over a band of warlords or whatever. And yet, Yuri can’t imagine another brute ever being quite like Balthus, with those eyes that see right through his carefully painted mask. And so, it’s Balthus, and only Balthus who will ever have Yuri on his knees. 

“C’mere.” Balthus sinks into his armchair, spreading out as he relaxes into the thin cushions. His tankard clanks on the side table with a heavy slosh. Yuri dares to look up at him for a moment. He’s stunning. Obnoxiously so. 

He stripped off his jacket at some point. A thin sheen of sweat glistens over his abdomen. His chest is covered in scars from the war, and Yuri knows how they continue down his hips and thighs. His hair’s all mussed, half from Yuri’s struggle, half because it’s always been wild. Suddenly, with Balthus on full display, the barbarian king hypothetical seems a little more difficult to judge. One of his hands rests on his belt buckle - a thick steel plate engraved with his crest - the other loosely wraps around his tankard on the table. Yuri shuffles towards him, settling between his legs. He tries to ignore the heat spiking through him when he looks up at Balthus.

“Pretty.” Balthus takes Yuri’s chin in his hand, idly resting his thumb on Yuri’s bottom lip. He shifts forward, letting his lips fall open, but Balthus seems content to simply hold him for a moment, forcing his jaw a little higher than comfortable. Probably feels Yuri’s stuttering breath under his fingers. Not like it’d be easy to ignore. He wants to close his eyes, look away, maybe. Heh, Balthus would never let him get away with that, would he?

It’s way too hard to explain what’s good about it. Sometimes Balthus asks after, and he tries for words, because he knows that Balthus just wants to make it even better for him. He gives Yuri plenty of space to unwind. He doesn’t judge. He’s careful with Yuri, even when it’s all trial and error, but he never seems to get it wrong.

Balthus pulls away, casually taking a sip of his ale. “You know what to do, yeah?” He smirks, settling back into the armchair.

“Hmm, don’t know, might have to remind me.” The taunt just barely slips past his lips before Balthus tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of his neck and yanks _hard_ , dragging him up and forward as if he were a weightless toy rather than a fully grown man. He shoves Yuri’s face into his thigh, ripping an awful, pitiful moan from his lips.

Goddess, _yes_. He loves it when Balthus gets like this. Unforgivingly rough. When he really, truly gives Yuri what he’s begging for...

It took some convincing at first. Balthus has always been willing to accomodate his interests, but this bit just wasn’t in his nature. He was reluctant to hurt Yuri, to debase him, even if Yuri insisted it was what he wanted. In that kind, easy, deceptively complex mind of his, it just didn’t seem right to treat him so roughly.

Turns out Balthus was a pretty quick learner. Rough cotton scratches across Yuri’s cheek. Sweat and musk drips off of Balthus’s skin, heavy as it mingles with the ale on his breath when he leans down to taunt him. 

“Ring any bells?” Balthus chuckles, rumbling in his smooth baritone. He’s damn good at this now. Yuri shivers. It’s futile, but he can’t resist the urge to tighten his legs together, wishing he could hide. He can’t. That’s the point, yeah?

Yuri couldn’t explain it, exactly. Couldn’t put it to words, not even to himself. Even now, he can’t make heads or tails of it, because it’s ridiculous, isn’t it? That someone like him, who spent too damn many years of his life underfoot and scrounging in the shadows, would ever want to feel anything less than free. And yet, he does. When the weight of Abyss feels too heavy, he just wants to… To give in? Heh, it’s ironic. 

Over time, though, Balthus got it. Oddly enough, Balthus understands it better than he does. Well, maybe that’s not so odd, given his unlikely track record with Yuri’s cryptic internal snags. He makes it seem so damn easy, like the tendrils wound around his heart were never so tangled to begin with.

Balthus forces him up into a cruel, bruising kiss. Less of a kiss, more of a show of force, all teeth and tongue. Claiming him, proving something - a reminder that he’s fully at Balthus’s mercy. Strong, bitter ale hits his tongue, a far cry worse than the mead he prefers, but it suits Balthus well enough.

Yuri teeters on his knees for a moment, considering... Can’t help but push his luck with Balthus. Yuri bites down on his lip, not hard, just a nip really. But it’s the defiance of the thing. 

Balthus pulls back and slaps him broad across the face, not hard, not as hard as Yuri knows he can. Still stings like hell. Pain laced into a thick, heady fog of shameful arousal. Yuri gasps for breath and falls back onto his knees. He’s burning up, clear as day. Goddess, he can’t reason why it’s _this_ that gets him, but it does. And Balthus knows it.

“Really pushin’ me today.” He thumbs across Yuri’s cheekbone, so damned gentle as he brushes across the reddening skin. “It’s like you want me to punish you.”

“Sorry.” Yuri breathes. Despite himself, he leans into Balthus’s touch, lets him gently guide Yuri back to his breeches. His grip on Yuri’s hair loosens. One hand tenderly brushes his shoulder, pausing to soothe along jagged scars he’s picked up over the years. He’s not so worn as Balthus, but he’s got his own share of marks from the war. Yuri nuzzles into the roughspun cotton, tentatively mouthing at the line of him through the cloth.

“Feels better to be good, doesn’t it?” Yuri tries for a nod, weakly hums when he can’t manage it.  
Balthus allows him silence for some time. Everything falls away, save for the tiny, charcoal grey world in front of him. He’s gotta spend a little time in his head reveling in the thickness under his tongue, the slickness of spit coating his lips.

It’s always been difficult to reconcile the shame. Cold fire flares up in his chest, and there’s an unsteady fluttering in the pit of his stomach. Surely Balthus is enjoying himself. Having Yuri in the palm of his hand like this has got to be a major turn on, but Yuri can’t do much for him like this physically. It’s more symbolic than that - it’s what Yuri wants, _needs_ , not Balthus.

Still can’t fully wrap his head around the damn thing. It’s every bit of his pride that he’s sold away, but given away freely to this mountain of a man. There’s an odd kind of comfort in it, somehow.

He’s safe. It’s safe because Balthus only ever takes what Yuri is willing to give, and he’s never asked for anything more, not in all the years they’ve known each other so intimately. He’s put his life in Yuri’s hands two dozen times over in the war - more than that, he does it every day now, protecting Abyss. Balthus followed him even when Yuri couldn’t tell him a single damn honest thing. Balthus loves him with his full heart, even when Yuri doesn’t have the words to say he feels the same.

But he does. He _does_ , it’s just too heavy on his tongue. 

“Right where you belong...” Balthus murmurs. Goddess, he must be a mess. His lips are undoubtedly blurry and ruined, half smudged onto his cheeks, half staining the seam of Balthus’s breeches. It comes out easily enough with vinegar, else he would have ruined a small kingdom’s worth of pants over the years.

Yuri looks up at him, lips puffy and face flushed. Thin ropes of spit still connect his face to the breeches. Heh, yeah, a mess.

Just as it starts, it all stops the second he says their word. Except, Yuri never does. In all honesty, he doesn’t… He hasn’t proven capable of knowing his limits. Balthus stops if he’s too dazed to respond to his check-ins, or if he decides Yuri’s being self-destructive. And, well, that’s for the best. Balthus knows Yuri’s limits better than he does. Still, he hasn’t ever _wanted_ to stop. He hasn’t ever felt like Balthus has overstepped his bounds. He’s never hurt him (more than he’s begged for), never gone too far. 

Whatever illusion he might create, in reality, Balthus is the one serving him. Whatever he wants, whatever he asks for, Balthus tries for him. He’s taken Yuri apart with his hands alone, painted his skin with stripes from a thin whip and forced him to count each blow. Just the memory of the sting sends a little pang of arousal straight to his cock. He’s tied him below a desk and muffled Yuri with his cock for what felt like an eternity, leaving him begging for any sort of friction as Balthus slowly, patiently polished his gauntlets. Proper weapon maintenance - bullshit, of course. He’s run fiery fingertips across his thighs, teasing him with a spark of magic just too weak to really burn. Anything, everything, he’ll try at least once.

All Yuri ever has to do is let himself give. Let Balthus care for him in ways he never imagined he’d crave. It’s good. Every damn thing he does is good. Maybe… Maybe because it’s him.

Yuri shyly licks his belt buckle. He looks up at Balthus, pleading. 

“Needy, aren’t ya?” He gives Yuri a proud little stroke along his cheek, then unhooks his belt, loosening the laces of his breeches. “Go on, then.”

He carefully takes the hem of his breeches into his mouth, tugging them down far enough for Balthus’s cock to spring out. He’s gotten much, much better at acting aloof and disinterested in their little games, but Yuri doesn’t miss the hitch in his breath when Yuri breathes over his cock and presses a sweet kiss at the tip. 

This evens the game a little bit. Yuri knows exactly what drives him wild, the kind of stuff that makes Balthus start spouting mushy crap that he’d roll his eyes at if it were to fall from anyone else’s lips. He’s good at it, but he never took real pride in that fact before Balthus. He was never so glad to put his skills to use before then, before now. And look, truth be told, he’s got a real nice cock.

Yuri licks a stripe up his shaft, teasingly slow as he laps at the tip. There might have been a time where the thick, musky taste and saltiness put him off, but that part of him has long faded into the distance. Balthus’s heels brace against the legs of his armchair. His poker face is pretty good, but his whole body seems to tense when Yuri takes the head of his cock into his mouth. Heh, good.

Much as he wants to play dirty, to bring him right up to the edge, Yuri knows he’ll be stopped before he gets too close. Yuri peppers gentle kisses along his length, a few on his hips, too, whatever he can reach above the hem of his breeches. He languidly licks down every inch of him and slowly takes him in, thick and heavy on his tongue until his jaw aches from the strain of accommodating him. 

Yuri never knows how much time passes. It takes him a while to calm himself down, to sink effortlessly into the silence. At some point, his mind stops running so wildly, his abstract musing about kinks turns into quiet contentment. He’s only grounded by Balthus’s fingers in his hair and the crackling fire. 

Yuri suspects he’s finished his tankard long before he finally sets it aside for the night. He’s not that slow of a drinker. 

Balthus gently pulls him off and rises from the chair without a word. Yuri takes a few deep breaths, licks his lips like that’d somehow manage to clean them off. He clutches his elbows and quietly studies the patterns in the rug. Hasn’t memorized them yet. The embroidery on the long edge differs from that of the short edge, and somehow that seems important in this very moment.

A clink of metal on wood, Balthus lays his tankard on the desk. Yuri tests the strap around his wrist, still sturdy as ever. Not that he minds, but with his wrists bound, he can’t do anything about the spit dripping from his chin to his chest. Two heavy clunks as Balthus kicks off his boots. He rummages through a drawer.

He’s good at this in so many small ways Yuri has only just begun to pick up on. Obvious as he may seem, he’s actually quite… tactful. Now, for instance. Giving Yuri a moment to breathe, probably thinking Yuri would have refused an open offer. Heh, he would have. Yuri balls his hands into fists and shifts on his knees. Everything’s still working, if a little stiff.

It’s not a moment too soon that Balthus wraps an arm around his waist and easily tosses him onto the bed. Goddess-damned _strength_. He sinks into the bedsheets, face-down and struggling to get his knees under him. Balthus chuckles and helps him out, pulling his hips up into the air. He stuffs a pillow under Yuri’s stomach and gives him a second to settle into a comfortable position. Can’t really see much, but whatever comes next, Yuri suspects he’s in for quite a ride.

* * *

“Doin’ okay?” Balthus kisses his shoulder.

“Yeah… Green.” Yuri rasps, shyly nodding for Balthus to continue. Yuri shifts on the bed, fidgeting in anticipation. He shivers as Balthus runs his hands up and down his sides, tracing the subtle bumps of his ribs. He’s quiet like this. Pliant. Not helpless but… He gives, and that’s not a small thing for him. 

Balthus nudges his knee between Yuri’s thighs, keeping him nice and spread, and Yuri gasps at the sudden intrusion of coarse fabric against his skin. He tries so hard not to grind back against Balthus’s thigh, his hips quiver. Heh, he’s tryin’ to be good. Yuri sinks his teeth into the bedsheets, doing his best to be patient as Balthus takes his time mapping over Yuri’s skin.

Kinda wild that Yuri likes shit like this. Like letting Balthus bite and suck rosy little marks into his skin while he’s bound up like a nice little present. The leather strap digs red rings into his wrists, but they’ll fade before morning. Won’t stop Balthus from kissing them away, though, even if Yuri rolls his eyes at that sort of thing. Doesn’t really hurt, just looks bad. He knows from experience - he’s let Yuri tie him up more than a few times. It’s kinda exhilarating, in a frustrating, not being able to touch him at all sort of way. So, it’s not that part that’s too wild to wrap his head around.

It’s the giving part. Yuri doesn’t talk about it much, but after all the years, Balthus has picked up enough clues to know where he came from, and what kinda damage he’s racked up. He knows Yuri had to do shit like this when he didn’t really want to. Says he sold his soul for scraps of power until he had enough to strike out on his own. So why’s he doing it now?

Way he describes it, it’s like being wrapped up in a hazy kinda hug while you bawl your eyes out. It’s a little messy in the beginning, but then there’s that sleepy sorta peace you get, when you’re so tired you can’t really think. The shakiness turns into somethin’ warm, and you lose track of time, just sittin’ there, existing for a little bit. If ya ask Balthus, hugs aren’t this rough, so it’s not a perfect metaphor.

But it makes sense, sorta.

“Balthus…” Yuri pleads into the pillows. Balthus knows where he’s going with that, but he can’t make it too easy, can he?

“Hmm?” Balthus plants a wet kiss on his tailbone, lazily squeezing his flanks. Yuri whines and presses back into his hands, begging. Ain’t cuttin’ it though. Balthus leans over his back, mouthing at his shoulder. He’s all red, blushing something fierce where he hasn’t got peach pink lipstick staining his face. “Gotta say it, pretty bird.”

“Please…” His eyes squeeze shut as he works up to it. “Just... Whatever you want, don’t care.”

“Maybe I just wanna keep you like this, get another tankard of ale, read a book.” Balthus tries to sound disinterested, but it’s damn hard. He’s not foolin’ anyone.

“Ha, read a book? You wouldn’t… Shit-” Yuri’s breath stutters as Balthus’s fingers teasingly drag over his entrance. “Please, _that_.”

“Heh, thought you didn’t care?” He tries to rock his hips back, but Balthus locks him in an iron grip, forcing him to stay still. “Fuckin’ insatiable tonight, aren’t you? Did I miss some kinda memo? You the one calling the shots now?” 

In all fairness, it’s his job to work Yuri up like this, and he’s making damn fine work of it, if he’s gotta say so himself. Hey, Balthus would love to just take Yuri’s offer, fuck him into the bedsheets so good his voice’ll be gone the next day, but that’s not the game plan. Not tonight.

He spills a bit of oil onto his fingers and sinks a finger into him infuriatingly slowly. To Yuri’s credit, he’s doin’ his best not to whine about the pace, but it’s gotta be torture. He can take more easily. Eventually Balthus slips in another finger, and the real fun starts. He’s mapped Yuri with his lips, over his fingers, it’s no surprise how quickly he’s got Yuri trembling with need. It’s not long before he’s brushing the edge of Yuri’s prostate, teasing him with awful, gentle thrusts.

The friction of his breeches against Yuri’s cock can’t be helping either. Each time Balthus drives his fingers into him, Yuri groans into the sheets and tries desperately to stop his own hips bucking back to meet his fingers. He’s taut as the brass strings on a lute, wound up so he sings just as pretty. It’s not his fault, Balthus has kept him teetering on the edge for far too long for his liking. He’s close, real close - that’s the point.

“That easy, huh?” Balthus chuckles, “You know the rules, birdie. Don’t come ‘till I say.” Yuri whines.

“F-fuck…” His knees wobble. Probably would’ve collapsed onto the mattress a while back if it weren’t for Balthus’s hold around his thighs. “Balthus, _please_ …” 

Takes a lot to make Yuri beg nicely, but he can do even better. Balthus smacks his ass, drawing a lovely, strangled cry out of him. He always worries it’s gonna be too much, but when he’s moaning like that, it’s gotta be good, right?

“I’ll take as long as I damn well please.” Balthus smirks, tracing slow, gentle circles inside him. He alternates, switching things up just when Yuri is getting used to his touch enough to ground himself. He’s got a mental list of all the things Yuri likes best and plenty of tricks to cycle through.

When he picks up speed, Yuri can’t hold back all the high, desperate pleas spilling from his lips any longer. His hips jerk, unsteady, but the added stimulation on his cock only makes it worse, pushing him into a vicious loop of pleasure. Yuri’s hands clench into fists, and he squirms helplessly in Balthus’s hold.

“B-Balthus please, fuck, I _can’t_ , I’ll-” A particularly well-aimed curl of his fingers cuts Yuri off with a choked moan, somethin’ like Balthus’s name. He reaches around Yuri’s hips and takes him in hand.

“Didn’t give you permission, did I?” Balthus smirks. He might’ve even guessed that Balthus was never really preparin’ him in the first place. It’s a fight for Yuri to try and follow his orders, and it’s one he's desperately losing - by design. 

He’s tryin’, really is, but every twist of Balthus's fingers, every maddeningly gentle stroke on his cock, every shift against the sheets brings him closer and closer to the edge, winding him into a tight little coil just begging to break free. All at once, he shatters, fraying out into mindless bliss. Balthus carries him through it, working each last little spark of light out of him until his tremors calm down and he's breathing steady. 

He’s fuckin' gorgeous. Always is, Balthus has thought the same thing about a thousand times over, and every day, for the rest of their lives, he'll be at a loss for words when he sees him like this. Shiny, bitten-up lips and tear-stained cheeks. Blurry charcoal ink smudged out from his eyes - signs of a good job. Yuri can go again, too, if Balthus handles him just right.

* * *

“Messy…” Balthus murmurs. He leans over Yuri, propped up on one elbow as he brings a hand to Yuri’s mouth, sliding three thick fingers between his lips. He can taste himself, salty and thick on Balthus’s rough skin.

“Disobeying me? Bad choice, y’know.” Yuri shudders, licking around the fingers as well as he can, given the dull ache in his jaw. Balthus withdraws, wiping the remnants of his spit and come across Yuri’s cheek. Goddess, what he wouldn’t give for a washcloth.

“Sorry. He rasps. And he means it. Really, he does, but Balthus can’t have actually expected him to last through that torture, could he? It’s another part of the game, clearly. He must have planned for it. Heh, the idea of Balthus planning _anything_ is wild to consider, but he’s got a thoughtful streak too, yeah?

He knows the game. Knows Yuri like the back of his hand, like the tunnels winding through Abyss, like the tang of ale on his tongue. Crazy as it seems, bastard’s got Yuri all figured out - knows the cards in his hand better than he should, better than anyone ever has. 

He’s the only man in Abyss, in all the world that can effortlessly take Yuri to pieces, then put him back together better than before. Knowing that, seeing Balthus’s devilish smirk and knowing he’s got something in store for Yuri - that makes his heart stutter in its cold, quiet little rhythm.

“Alright, you wanna come so bad? Guess I’ll have to teach you a lesson.”

And _Goddess_ if the dark rumble in his tone doesn’t send a shameful pang of arousal spiking through his gut, even wrecked as he is. Balthus claps his palm against Yuri’s ass, hard. The slap of skin on skin echoes through the chambers. Once, twice, three times, and Balthus finally relents. He kisses over the reddened, stinging skin. Gentle shit mixed in with the pain. Frankly, it’s just like Balthus. Soft under the act, too kind for his own damn good.

Yuri melts into a quivering, whining mess. He’s spent, and yet Balthus still stokes the fire in his gut. It’s too soon, there’s no way he can go again, but when Balthus pulls back and drags him all the way up on his thigh, he can’t help but moan at his rough handling.

“Ya like that, huh?”

“Yes-” _Yes, Sir_ , he might have said, if Balthus hadn’t spread him apart, suddenly running his tongue all along his rim. Yuri gasps, jerks forward in his grip. He just laughs, tongue still lapping at his skin, and it sends terrible, earth-shattering vibrations right into his core. Balthus’s fingers easily slip back into him, prodding relentlessly. He’s teasing him, fucking him, spreading him open for his tongue, like he intends to eat him _alive_. And Goddess, it feels like he might.

It’s too much. It’s far, _far_ too much. Dull black sparks shoot across his vision, even when he squeezes his eyes shut. Distantly, Yuri recognizes the lewd, pitiful moaning as his own, but there’s nothing he can do to stop the incoherent thread of sounds flowing from his lips. Not a damn thing, and Balthus knows it. He tries to bite down on the blankets, tries to muffle his cries, but his jaw goes slack every time Balthus curls his fingers inside him, effortlessly hitting his mark. Despite his weariness, a cold sort of heat pools up in his stomach.

“Enough for you, princess?” Balthus pulls away for only a moment, only long enough to lay a sloppy, wet kiss just above his tailbone. Yeah, yeah. Balthus loves this shit. Pushing Yuri further and further until it feels like he’s going to break into a hundred pieces, until he’s too far gone to even beg Balthus for more.

Yuri moans out some mangled version of his name, or he tries. Heh, he’s far past the ability to string together consonants now. He’s putty in Balthus’s hands, dissembled in the sweetest way by his tongue. He’s helpless as cruel waves of pleasure crash over him, eventually dimming into a sweet weariness settling over his senses.

Yuri comes down to the sound of his own unsteady breathing, the soft pillow under his chest, and Balthus brushing sticky locks of hair out of his face.

“Goddess, look at you.” Balthus can’t help the fondness in his voice. 

Yuri bites back a smile. He’s ridiculous. Yuri’s got to be a hot mess at this point. Tears dry in haphazard streaks down his face. The color on his eyes has surely gone to shit too, given the little spots of pink powder staining the sheets.

“Gorgeous…” Balthus rolls Yuri onto his side, claiming his lips in a deep, loving kiss. His dopey sweetness slips through the cracks, instantly shattering the dominating mask he’s put on.

“Sap.” Yuri chokes out.

“Just enjoyin’ myself. That’s allowed, yeah?” Balthus grins, half warm and half lustful as he lazily strokes his cock, reveling in the view. Right… He’s been doing far too much of the work tonight, hasn’t he?

“Mhm… Fuck me.” Yuri flops onto his back, still a bit too dazed to manage looking into his eyes. It’s something like staring at the sun - burns if he looks right into them.

“Woah, you sure?” Balthus frowns, “You look pretty wrecked, pal.”

“You’ll stop if I say the word, won’t you?” He tangles a foot between Balthus’s calves, like his weak little prodding would do a damn thing to move him.

“‘Course, but-”

“Then yeah, I’m sure. You’re not going to break me, Balthus.” Yuri smiles, sleep creeping into the corners of his eyes. Right, maybe he is a bit wrecked, but he’s no quitter. He’ll give as good as he gets. Besides that, it’s on Balthus to do all the hard work from here; Yuri can just relax and let Balthus take him for a ride.

“Alright,” Balthus kisses his temple, “But I’m stoppin’ if I think you can’t take it, got it?” 

“Yes, _master~_ ” Yuri purrs. Balthus unbuckles the strap behind Yuri’s back and presses a loving kiss to each of his wrists. “Really are a sap, aren’t you.” Yuri sighs, pretending for all the world that’s a bad thing, not the part that makes him so terribly endearing. Banter or not, his heart flutters light in his chest when Balthus looks up at him, eyes bright with a spark of mischief.

“Jackass.” Balthus dives in for another kiss, and Yuri can’t help the muffled laughter that bubbles up when his stubble tickles at Yuri’s chin. Balthus smiles against his lips. His fingers tangle into Balthus’s thick mane, pulling him close as he drags his teeth along Yuri’s collarbones.

He’s gorgeous. Really, truly, he is. Every inch of him carefully sculpted from marble, painted alive by the sun. Heh, maybe he isn’t the man Yuri would have dreamed of so many years ago, but only because a man like him is too improbable to exist. When every one of the Goddess’s laws say he should be selfish, he’s caring. When he should be a brute, he’s impossibly gentle.

“Love you.” Balthus tucks a few sweat-damp lilac strands behind his ear, but he doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t force eye contact. Balthus wouldn’t do that to him.

“I…” His breath catches in his throat. “I know.” Yuri whispers.

* * *

Yuri doesn’t need to say it back. All things considered, he should. It’s rude not to. But if he can’t, that’s alright, because it’s nothin’ Balthus doesn’t already know. He might not be as smart as Yuri, but he’d have to be blind as a damn bat to miss the message. Yuri doesn’t let him this close just ‘cause he’s good lookin’.

His hands settle around Yuri’s waist, drawing him close and steady as Balthus presses against him. Yuri nods and lets his eyes slip shut. He hooks his ankles around Balthus’s hips, pullin’ him down. Even with all that prep, Balthus is still pretty hard to take, but Yuri wouldn’t have it any other way. 

A shaky sigh slips out from his pretty lips as Balthus finally pushes in. He’s fucking incredible - soft as velvet, scorching hot and damned tight… Goddess, he’s so tiny and delicate in Balthus’s hands; he always worries he’s gonna snap him in two. 

“Too much for ya?” Balthus smirks as Yuri’s jaw falls right open, breathless. He tenses up for a moment, grip whitening on the pillows as he forces himself to relax.

“Adorable of you to think that.” Yuri quips back. His voice is a little rough, but he’s still got that challenging little grin in his eye. Just needs a minute. Balthus leans down, peppering a few gentle kisses across his chest. 

Yuri’s got a habit of biting off more than he can chew, so as much as every inch of Balthus’s skin is prickling on edge, _begging_ him to just move already and chase his own pleasure, he’s gotta take it slow. Yuri guides Balthus up with a few slender fingers, capturing his lips in a warm, leisurely kiss - the easy kind of affection that’s pretty rare for him.

“Come on, give me everything you’ve got.” Yuri whispers against his lips, and he must be feeling alright if he’s got the audacity to _smirk_ like that.

He snaps his hip forward, slamming into him rough and fast, just the way he likes. And hey, Balthus ain’t complaining either. Yuri’s hands fly up to his back. Pretty, painted nails bite angry crescents into his shoulders, digging deep red lines into his back as he picks up the pace. Bliss paints over Yuri’s features, even while a whole litany of curses drip off his tongue.

He’s fucked a half hundred women and a dozen men over the years, but there’s somethin’ about kissing Yuri that feels like seeing in color for the first time. And if that’s just a kiss, then fuckin’ him feels like the prettiest song is ringing in his bones, strumming through each inch of him until he’s perfectly tuned to Yuri’s melody. He’s made of dreams - the kind where you feel like you’re really there, but it’s all too impossible to be true. It’s times like this, when Yuri’s clinging to Balthus so sweetly, that he swears he ought to pinch himself and see if it’s all for real, but if it isn’t, he doesn’t wanna wake up.

His high hits him real hard, pulsing through his hips as he spills into Yuri. Even _he’s_ breathin’ a little shaky when the room comes back into focus, and he ain’t the one that just got his guts fucked out. Heh, still... Somethin’ about Yuri always knocks his lights out. 

Yuri hums, lazily pulling him down onto the blankets so he can cuddle up in Balthus’s chest. 

“Feelin’ alright?” Balthus asks. Blurry pink patches scattered around Yuri’s hips mark where Balthus held him earlier. They’ll fade in time, but not before they deepen into a dark violet. Yuri says it’s fine, he just bruises like a motherfucker, but… Well, that won’t stop Balthus from pouring white magic into them before they get all purple.

“Peachy.” Yuri mumbles, “Thank you, friend.” 

Sweat-slick skin slides against his own as Yuri crawls on top of him, tucking his head into Balthus’s shoulder. His hands say what his mouth can’t. Slender fingers trace slow, looping patterns into his chest. Everything gets all hot and sticky like this, but it’s good to just... _touch_. 

There never used to be any damn time for shit like this. Quiet, unhurried intimacy - affection that flows like honey, slow and sweet. During the war, they only ever had a few moments before the crushing weight of the world fell back on ‘em, and all the worries came simmering back up. Even before then, Abyss threatened to crumble in an instant if they fucked things up.

These days, they’ve got time to breathe. It’s nice. It’s fuckin’ great, really. Could be like this for a while, too…

“Right, that’s enough of that.” Yuri rolls off of him, reaching for the waterskin on the bedside table. Yeah, between the two of them they’re a real mess! Balthus rises in search of a washcloth. The weariness settles in his bones pretty quick. The drafty air starts to feel a bit cold away from the blankets.

“Ugh,” Yuri sighs, “You always manage to get me so dirty.”

“Want me to carry ya to the baths, princess?” Yuri halfheartedly tosses a pillow at him. It’s a weak throw, and Balthus isn’t tired and fucked out of his mind, so he catches it and throws it back on the bed.

Yeah, he’ll need a real bath later, but the thought of either carrying him up to the bathhouse or siphoning enough water to fill the tub seems like a real stretch of what he’s feelin’ up to right now. Bright side is, when it comes time, they’ve got a tub big enough to share.

“Anywhere sore?” Balthus wets a cool cotton cloth and rubs sweet, feather-light circles into Yuri’s cheeks, wiping off the mess of mingled pigments and half-wiped off _fluids_. 

“Nothing too bad.” Yuri closes his eyes. He lets Balthus take care of him for a few quiet moments. Takes a while to get all cleaned up, and even then, it’s just a passable job. Just enough so they can tangle up in each other again without feeling too gross.

“Little more relaxed now?” Balthus flops onto the bed. Yuri leans across him, putting his chest to much better use as a pillow. 

“Yeah, something like that.” Yuri smiles, and it’s a real warm one too. Heh, must have done a pretty good job to get a look like that. “Thank you, Balthus. For everything.” Balthus combs through his silky hair, working out little tangles he’s probably responsible for making.

“Anytime.” Balthus leans up to lay a kiss to his temple. “No need to thank me.”

“Balthus...” Yuri stares at a crack in the ceiling, thinkin’ something quiet and probably complicated. Eventually, he gazes back down into his eyes. He’s got that look - that doubtful, worrying, self-sabotaging kinda look. 

“What’s wrong, birdie?” 

“I… Look, this isn’t easy for me.” He groans, pinches the bridge of his nose. He stares back up at the ceiling, pointedly looking away. Ah, yeah, that thing.

“You don’t gotta-”

“I _do_. Don’t know if I’ll ever say it again...” Yuri picks at a fold in the bedsheets. “But you deserve to hear it, so… I love you.”

A wide, stupid happy grin stretches across Balthus’s face. “ _I know._ ” He teases. Yuri smacks his arm, nuzzling back into his chest with a little huff. Heh, probably deserved that. Still, it can’t take away the giddy feeling buzzing through his chest. “What?” He laughs.

“You’re awful. You’re truly awful.”

“Ouch!” Balthus rolls them over, peppering Yuri with sweet little kisses. Gets a nice laugh out of him. He can see a bit of tension melt out of Yuri’s bones. Maybe he didn’t know how Balthus would take it, even if it's clear as day he’s never minded a damn bit about the things Yuri can’t help but overthink. “Gonna take you to Kupala for the honeymoon.”

“Honeymoon? Gotta be married for that, genius.” Yuri presses a hand to his mouth before he can reply. “And if you propose to me now while I haven’t got any makeup on, I’ll never forgive you.” His tongue darts out to lick Yuri’s palm. He pulls his hand back, wiping it on Balthus’s cheek. “You’re disgusting.”

“But ya _love_ me.” Balthus smirks. “I’m just teasin’.” He runs a thumb along Yuri’s cheek, quietly tilting his chin up so he can get a good look at those pretty lavender eyes. Yuri leans into his touch, willing to follow where he leads, at least for the moment. Kinda wild, holding him like this now. Nothin’s changed, but... Yuri shoots him a curious look. 

“You’re right on schedule to get mushy about something again, so come on. Out with it, friend.”

“Harsh. Am I really that predictable?” He laughs, “Eh, don’t answer that.” He finds Yuri’s hand on his chest and gathers it up in his own, lacing their fingers together. “I’m in it for the long haul, pal. Nothing’s changed. I’m ready, have been for a while. But that means I don’t mind waiting a bit longer. So it’s your call, y’know? Whenever you’re ready.”

“And if I’m never ready?” Yuri twirls a lock of Balthus’s hair around his finger, “If I just want to string you around for a while?”

“Then we keep goin’ like this. I’ll stay your awesome, super sexy bodyguard. Guess I gotta keep my name a bit longer, too.” Balthus grins. He’s quick to respond, ‘cause, weird as it might sound, he’s thought this through a couple times. He knows what it means to Yuri, so of course he’s got contingencies for every which day the cards fall.

“Heh, you thought about taking my surname?” Yuri snorts, “You know it’s fake, right?”

“Yeah, thought about it. Or we could make up something new. I’m thinking we could take Aubin, if no one’s usin’ it.”

“Aubin?” Yuri’s eyes widen a touch, “Tell me, Balthus, are you that eager to give up your own namesake?”

“Thought about Chevaubin, or uh, Aubalier?” Balthus shrugs “Sound pretty dumb though, don’t they?” Nothin’ ever really sounded quite right, but he can’t really see Yuri goin’ for something like ‘Stormbreaker’ or ‘Ironfist’ like in the fantasy knights’ tales he used to read.

“You’ve never had a way with words, friend.” Yuri shatters into a soft laugh, “We’ll think of something.”

“Anything you like. We can just pick something and run with it.” Balthus presses a kiss to his temple. Anywhere he flies, Balthus damn well plans on following.

“Hm. A new story, yeah? Gotta say, it doesn’t sound so bad.”

**Author's Note:**

> Love them. One day I'll write the honeymoon fic.
> 
> Hey, if you liked this fic, then you might also like [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23977966) one by Quiddity:  
> (Am I encouraging Balthuri binge reading? Yes, yes I am. I super am)
> 
> Come say hi on Twitter :)  
> [@hanatamagos](https://twitter.com/hanatamagos), where I retweet every scarce piece of Balthuri I lay eyes on.


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